


The Way You Look Tonight

by pieckaboo



Series: Moonlight Sonata [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-up Sherry Birkin, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Awkwardness, Billy Coen is basically eye candy in this fic tbh, Chris Redfield gets to the root of his wedding planning problems, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jill Valentine Is A Good Bro, Minor Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, Minor Rebecca Chambers/Billy Coen, Weddings, claire and leon make out and think it's platonic lmao, leon kennedy is a good bean, more like friends to friends with benefits then back to friends and then to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-01-04 11:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieckaboo/pseuds/pieckaboo
Summary: Claire Redfield needs a date for her brother's wedding. The ceremony's not for another several months, so she has plenty of time to find one...She asks Leon Kennedy anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay fellow Cleon fans! Here's the fic I mentioned a while back!!! We're back with another AU and it'll be fluffy and chaotic woot woot!  
> I meant for this to be a one-shot (two-shot max) but I can't just leave this at 2k words so buckle up!
> 
> Side note: This is part two of a series. "Expect the Unexpected" is technically the prequel to this fic, but you don't necessarily have to read that one to understand what's going on here. They just take place in the same universe. (But if you like rebecca/billy, then i recommend it ❤️)
> 
> Without further ado, read, review, enjoy!

“We’re getting married!”

 

Chris Redfield had never been happier in all of his twenty-eight years of living.

The entire STARS office erupted in cheers, hoots, and hollers at his announcement, pouring out heartfelt praise and congratulatory remarks as he embraced his fiancé, Jill Valentine, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Amidst all the celebratory chaos, he scanned the office for his sister, Claire, and motioned for her to join his side, immediately throwing his arms around her and lifting her up in elation. He’d invited her to the office under the guise of ‘meeting up for a brother and sister lunch,’ but it turned out to be ruse for his surprise engagement announcement instead. Clever.

Claire wondered what would become of the turkey sandwiches she’d purchased from Panera on the way there.

“Woah there,” Claire chuckled as she was hoisted into the air. “Never took you for the sappy type.”

He wasn’t, but his enthusiasm was fitting of the high-spirited mood. He’d been head-over-heels for Jill since they first met, and the two had grown closer over the course of a commendable five-year partnership. That _and_ his line of work had potential for an entire seminar’s worth of risks not even limited to death of all things, (guaranteed seventy-five percent chance of getting shot at every time they’re out on patrol) so although Chris’s exhilaration was a rare sight, by all means it was entirely welcome. Refreshing, even.

Guy deserved to live a little.

“That your way of saying you’re happy for me?” Chris gave her another squeeze before releasing her from his grasp.

“Of course I’m happy for you,” Claire replied, smirking. “Now if you’ll excuse me. Gotta go warn Jill of the risks.” She nodded toward the woman in question with mischief in her eye. She was chatting about wedding planning shenanigans with Barry Burton. (“Spring wedding? Summer? Don’t have it at the beach! The sand will get everywhere!”)

“Risks? What risks?” Chris smiled in confusion. “Of becoming a Redfield?”

“No. Risks of becoming your spouse.”

“That was too predictable, Claire. Your quips have been slacking lately.”

“I’ll be sure to tune up properly for the grand wedding toast.”

“And I’ll remember that when _your_ wedding rolls around.”

“Chris! Congrats!” Rookie officer Rebecca Chambers interjected the wholesome sibling banter to offer adulation for the upcoming nuptial _and_ play peacekeeper simultaneously. “How did you pop the question? I _need_ to know!”

With Chris distracted, Claire snuck off and meandered her way to his desk to oblige her relentless craving for the turkey sandwiches. All the commotion had evoked quite the appetite.

Before she could so much as look inside the plastic bag, Jill had surfaced seemingly out of nowhere, addressing her with intent.

“Hey Claire,” she said, tone filled with a gentle kind of sincerity. Like Chris, it wasn’t exactly an everyday thing to see this softer side of Jill. Love really does strange things to people, Claire supposed. “I know it might be a bit early to ask, but I was hoping you’d be one of my bridesmaids.”

Claire’s eyes widened in shock. The query itself hadn’t surprised her; it was the timing that had her slightly disconcerted. Everything felt like a blur, flying past her at a mile a minute.

Her brother was a bachelor five minutes ago. Now she was face to face with her future sister-in-law. She needed a moment to process it all.

“Yes, absolutely,” Claire answered on impulse. “I’d love to.”

* * *

 

“Well, I’m doomed.”

Claire had mindlessly agreed to a myriad of wedding-planning related activities and affairs before the weight of such commitments had her crashing back to reality.

She’d mostly wanted to appease her brother and fulfill whatever familial obligation applied to these circumstances but now, although her intentions were pure, she was inadvertently bound to a range of daunting tasks varying from dress shopping to scoping out possible venues for the ceremony. Yikes.

But the _real_ dilemma was by the far the last thing she’d expected to impose a rather irksome inconvenience.

She didn’t have a date for the wedding.

Claire Redfield, a vivacious young woman who was no spring chicken by any means, was single for the first time in what felt like ages.

Her previous fling had ended a few weeks prior, and while it was nice having a little more freedom in the social aspect of her life, it did nothing to quell the inexplicable panic swirling in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re _not_ doomed,” Rebecca assured, replacing Chris’s role as both the voice of reason and lunch buddy for a stressed-out Claire. “The wedding’s not for several months. You’ll find someone before then.”

The two were seated at her desk, wolfing down their respective turkey sandwiches as though recovering from a city-wide famine. (Claire was definitely eating her feelings, while poor Rebecca was simply starving.)

“Easy for you to say,” Claire sighed, deflated. “You have a boyfriend.”

Rebecca gulped, her face coated entirely in scarlet. “Um… well, it wasn’t exactly something I planned,” she explained. “Some things happen when you least expect them.”

Like Chris and Jill’s surprise engagement for example.

“I guess you’re right,” Claire conceded, already resigning herself to her fate. “If worse comes to worse, I’ll just go stag. Nothing wrong with flying solo.”

“You _could_ ,” Rebecca drawled half-heartedly, like she was bracing her audience of one for the punchline to her favorite twisted joke; _Irony_. “Or… you could rekindle an old flame.”

As if on cue, Rookie Officer Leon Kennedy walked into the office, dual arms accommodating the burdening weight of a fortified stack of papers. (Chief Irons being the rat bastard he was just _loved_ having him as his personal errand boy.) Before he could set the thick leather-bound files on Albert Wesker’s desk, he was immediately engulfed with news of the Redfield/Valentine engagement, surrounded by his fellow cohorts like a flock of gossiping hens.

He managed to squeeze in his regards for the lovely couple after hurriedly fulfilling his task. Barely.

“Congrats, Jill,” he expressed with a quick hug, a little frantic but polite as always. “You’ll have to give me the details the next time we all go out.”

His inquiry to Chris’s whereabouts informed him he’d left for patrol shortly after the announcement.

Jill assured the rookie he’d have a chance to extend his felicitations in a more suitable setting.

“I left an invitation to the engagement party on your desk,” she told him. “I really hope you can make it.”

Leon nodded. “I’ll be there,” he vowed. With that, he turned and left the room, eager for his next task. 

Whether his instruction consisted of filing paperwork in an endless array of cabinets or answering the call to a cat stuck in a tree (“But Sir… I thought that was the Fire Department’s job…”) was of little importance to him. His heart was set on performing each and every assignment in dutiful fashion. Not a single job was beneath him- and he was never one to half-ass anything.

Claire Redfield certainly admired him for that.

Her eyes wistfully followed his trajectory out the office, an act that hadn’t gone unnoticed by an astute Rebecca.

“He’d say yes,” Rebecca said without context.

“What now?” Claire asked, rousing herself from an awkward daze.

“If you asked Leon to be your date, he’d say yes,” Rebecca repeated. “It’s obvious he still has feelings for you.”

Claire chewed her lip, considering the possible repercussions. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”

Leon Kennedy wasn’t quite an ex-boyfriend, but he was an ex- _something_. They’d dated briefly after being formally introduced at some RPD function about a year ago. It was a wildly popular tradition for the Raccoon City Police Department to take on their age-old rivals, the Raccoon City Fire Department, for their annual charity baseball tournament- as was the case in most Midwestern cities without a professional sports team. (The good citizens have to stay entertained somehow.)

Claire had only agreed to attend to support her brother. (He’s a pretty stellar pitcher, she has to admit.)

But when Leon came up to bat, her heart fluttered uncontrollably like a scene out of those obnoxious rom-coms where the leading lady swoons over her love interest at the quintessential first glance. Or, to put it in less romantic terms, it was merely an unconditioned response that provoked her thirst.

She couldn’t help it. He was cute- and he was athletic to boot. Good combo.

Thing is, they were never official. Even after several dates with favorable outcomes, deep conversations at three in the morning, and sex with _some_ strings attached, Claire had insisted there was no need to prioritize a committed relationship.

Leon, unfortunately, had not shared that particular sentiment.

But they agreed to remain friends, in spite of the residual… emotional baggage.

“You should go ask him now,” Rebecca advised. “Before someone beats you to the punch.”

Claire heaved a sigh. “He seems pretty busy. I’ll call him later tonight…”

“If you leave now, you might be able to catch him before he reaches the elevator.” Rebecca flashed her watch, as if already set to start her timer.

The circumstances were hardly dire once Claire put everything into perspective, but she’d be lying if she denied she still felt something for Leon, too. The all-too-familiar warmth that rose in her chest as she watched him leave the room was clearly a testament to her fondness for the rookie cop.

It might take some adjusting, she reasoned, but she was capable of accomplishing this strictly platonic feat. They were adults. They got along swimmingly. There was no question they’d have fun as they always do- regardless of whatever label was slapped onto their relationship status. And if Leon was already invited to the wedding, well, that just made it all the more convenient.

“Fine,” Claire yielded with a shrug. “But we’d just be going as friends.” She stood from her seat and power-walked to the door, insisting she would return shortly.

“Sure thing,” Rebecca called after her, finishing off the rest of her sandwich in pure satisfaction.

* * *

 

Rebecca’s prediction had been accurate, much to Claire’s advantage.

She caught up to Leon right as he was about to thumb the elevator call button, and braced herself for some quick-witted improvising.

“Hey, Leon,” she called, making her steadfast approach. “Wait up!”

“Claire?” Leon had the typical look of confusion seared on his face; the one that made him look like a lost puppy. Adorable. Hopeless, but adorable. “Hi.” He stalled awkwardly for a moment. “What’s up? You need an escort to your car?”

 _Oh Leon…_ Claire smiled and shook her head. “No thanks. I’m fine,” she replied. “But I wanted to ask you something.”

Leon seemed curious at that. “Sure. Shoot.” He waited patiently for her to continue, eyes locked with hers as he tuned out the distracting environment of the mild foot traffic down the adjacent hall. He gave her his full undivided attention, like everything else was mere background noise.

He often looked at her that way; with a softness that sparked unfathomable longing and desire. He seldom smiled with his lips but it was his eyes that revealed his sincerest and purest emotions, like windows to his soul.

It gave Claire the irresistible urge to smile. Maybe he had that effect on everyone without even realizing it.

“Are you free this weekend?” she finally asked once she’d caught her bearings. Her impromptu plan comprised of a casual hangout (brunch at their favorite place) where she’d ease into the subject of Chris’s wedding and her unprecedented dilemma. She opted to spare him the details of said dilemma- for now. They had plenty to catch up on in the meantime. Kill two birds with one stone.

Leon ran a hand through his hair as he mulled it over, and all Claire could think about was how her own fingers had gently grazed over his forehead through the same fawn-colored strands before. Oh the nostalgia.

“Yeah, I’m off Sunday,” he replied.

“Great! Let’s do brunch!” Claire proposed before he could ask. “At our usual spot.”

Leon was a bit taken by surprise as he was usually the one to initiate their social outings, but he had no qualms with the roles reversed. In fact, he kind of appreciated it. Reciprocity was always nice.

“Okay,” he agreed. When it came to Claire Redfield, it was _that_ easy for him.

Claire pressed the elevator call button, considerate of the fact that he was due elsewhere.

“I’ll call you later,” she affirmed. “We’ll figure out the exact time when you’re not knee-deep in police work.”

The elevator doors opened with a _ding_ , but Leon seemed hesitant to enter. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit meant to ease his nerves.

“Claire, I…” He trailed off, words eluding him.

Claire gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. Whatever you want to tell me can wait until we see each other.”

Leon nodded in understanding, aware of the time constraints. Lieutenant Branagh was expecting him.

“Right. See you then,” he said as he stepped inside. Before the doors merged together, he quickly parted with: “Tell your brother I said congrats, by the way.”

“I will,” Claire replied. And he was gone.

She instantly felt relieved, compiling a step-by-step plan in her head. Okay, Sunday brunch. Simple enough.

“It’s a date,” she mumbled to herself. “Well… not an _actual_ date…”

 

All right. Off to a semi-decent start.

Maybe she really wasn’t doomed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be using the re2 remake Claire and Leon for their characterizations sooooooo don't expect jaded alcoholic Leon lol. They're youngins' here- and they're not traumatized by the events in canon. Gotta love AUs.
> 
> Thanks for reading and stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand we're back with the second chapter! 
> 
> side note: I recently learned that the gal who voices Claire in RE2 (1998) was also Loonette on The Big Comfy Couch and I'm like- what. plot twist. But that's??? Actually??? Really cool???? idk i briefly imagined claire as loonette and sherry as molly but in doll-form lmao i'm conflicted 
> 
> anyway! hope y'all have a great weekend!

Leon arrived at the café promptly at 11am, punctual as always.

Claire had texted him she would be a few minutes late, intermittent roadblocks from construction being the culprit of her tardiness. Leon assured there was no rush and promised to save them a booth; their favorite one by the window with a clear view of the street and the lake that stretched beyond.

The place was packed, a little busier than what was the norm during peak hours on Sunday mornings. There were families with young children, the after-church service crowd, cheerful tourists, and retired folk enjoying their meals in the bustling ambiance of the café’s quaint little rustic theme.

“What’ll it be, hon?” the waitress asked after he’d been seated.

“Just two coffees for now,” he replied. “I’m still waiting for someone.”

“Okay. Two coffees coming right up.” She set two menus down and then excused herself to fulfill his request.

Leon rested his arms above the table and peered out the window, fixated on the glistening surface of the lake. Baby ducks soon came into view, swimming behind their mother in a perfectly linear formation. He counted a total of six ducklings, each bearing golden yellow feathers in contrast to their mother’s brown spotted pattern. He could already hear Claire fawning over the brood, afflicted by ‘cute aggression’. (Apparently it was an actual thing. She made him look it up once.)

The waitress returned with two mugs and a fresh pot of coffee. She filled each mug to the brim and deposited a small tray of half n’ half pods at the center of the table.

“Let me know if I can bring you anything else,” she said before venturing off to check on her other tables.

“Thanks.” Leon reached for his mug and took a sip. The flavor was a bit too robust for his liking so he remedied the taste with a couple packets of sugar and single pod of half n’ half, stirring in the extra contents with a spoon.

He stared at the ripples in his coffee as his mind wandered to his previous visits with Claire. The first time they’d come here was after they met at the annual charity baseball tournament, about a month after he’d joined the force. He was still new to the area, new to the job, new to the enigma that was Claire Redfield.

She’d ordered a stack of blueberry pancakes, he remembered, topped with whipped cream and drenched in syrup. It was her favorite- and the only thing she ever ordered.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interjecting his nostalgic trip down memory lane. Claire’s text indicated she’d finally made it, more or less exaggerated with a few expletives and emojis. Leon was about to type a reply (“ _I saved us a bo-_ ”) when she swiftly appeared and slipped inside the booth, sitting opposite from him.

“Hey,” she said, breathlessly. “Sorry I’m late. The roads were a little congested. You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

Leon shook his head. “Got here about ten minutes ago,” he replied. “I ordered coffee in the meantime.”

Claire inhaled the warm scent with gratification. “God, I’ve missed this place.” She sighed wistfully, peeling off her jacket before obliging her cravings. The coffee was still piping hot. Perfect.

The waitress heeded Claire’s arrival and sauntered toward their booth, pulling out a pen and notepad from the front pocket of her apron.

“You two ready?” she asked, clicking her pen. “Or would you like a few more minutes to decide?”

Claire didn’t even bother to look at the menu. “We’re ready,” she said. “I’ll go with the triple stack of blueberry pancakes.” She rarely deviated from the usual.

Leon followed suit when the waitress turned his way. “The ham and eggs combo, with wheat toast.”

She repeated their orders while jotting a few additional details on her notepad (“extra whipped cream please” and “eggs sunnyside up”).

“Coming right up,” she affirmed. “I’ll be back to refill your mugs.”

With the two left alone and the caffeine kicking in, Claire got right to it, eager to catch up.

“So how’ve you been?” she asked. “Kick any ass lately?”

“Not exactly…” Leon drawled.

By some unholy streak of bad luck, he’d actually been (more often than not) on the receiving end of ass-kickings; mostly in the form of getting chewed out by his superiors or having the misfortune of sparring with Chris Redfield in the training facility. Still not as bad as sparring with Jill, though. That woman always had him pinned down on the mat in four seconds flat.

“Your brother’s partly to blame for that,” was about as deep as he would get into it.

Claire knew exactly what he was referring to anyway. “You should train with someone more evenly matched. Try Barry or Rebecca.”

Leon grimaced. (Barry’s marksman skills easily outclassed his own and Rebecca’s personal trainer/boyfriend was a former Marine who thoroughly prepared her for hand-to-hand combat. He’d rather _not_ risk being thrown across the room by a woman of five feet and three inches.)

When he’d first joined the RPD, he distanced himself from the STARS squad mostly because he was creeped out by Albert Wesker, but after getting to know fellow rookie Rebecca, it helped foster an ease in acquainting himself with the likes of Chris, Jill, Barry, and others he frequently convened with; professionally and socially.

Oddly enough, Wesker had expressed interest in recruiting him; an offer Leon had been considering the last time he gave Claire an update.

“Speaking of which,” Leon began, “Rebecca and I could potentially be partnered up.”

Claire’s eyes widened in recollection. “So you really plan on joining STARS then?”

“It’s… up in the air for now.” Leon had to weigh the pros and cons.

Pros: Better pay, more action, nice uniforms, _status_ , and Rebecca would be a great partner.

Cons: Wesker, deadly missions, less time off, Wesker, long hours, no K-9 unit, Wesker, random guitar and piano playing, the fact that he’d be working with Chris Redfield after he’d had a fling with his younger sister (and yet he somehow _still_ has no knowledge of it), and Wesker.

Decisions, decisions…

“I think you’d be a good fit,” Claire encouraged. “If that’s the direction you want to take your career, I’d say go for it.”

“Therein lies the problem,” Leon replied. “I’m unsure which direction to take.” He entertained the idea of going the detective route, or maybe running for sheriff one day- but it was probably best to take it one day at a time for now. Even if his days writing up parking tickets went by at a snail’s pace. “I just want to be a good cop.”

 _Same ol’ Leon_ , Claire thought. _Heart of gold._

“You are,” she said without exemption. “It’ll take time, but your efforts will pay off. Chris felt the same way back when he joined the Air Force.” The memory of her brother leaving for basic flashed in her mind, fading as quickly as it appeared. She turned to look out the window in an effort to rid the thought. _That_ was a rough day… “He busted his ass to get where he is now. Definitely didn’t happen overnight.”

Leon took another swig from his mug. “Thanks for the pep-talk, Claire.” He gave her an appreciative grin.

“I’m serious!” Claire chuckled. “Have a little more faith in yourself.”

Leon was getting there. “Working on it.”

He was spared an awkward attempt to elaborate when the waitress swung by to refill their mugs. Through his peripherals, he caught a glimpse of her name-tag. Lucille. Lovely name.

After Lucille ambled away, he steered the conversation away from his career goals to pry into current events with Claire. Enough with his dubious outlook on the job…

“What about you? What have you been up to lately?” he asked. “Staying out of trouble?”

Claire’s mouth curved sardonically. “For the most part,” she replied with a dismissive shrug. “Mostly keeping myself busy with volunteer work.”

“Still thinking about getting on with TerraSave?”

“That’s the plan.” Given that she’d interned with the non-profit organization her junior and senior year of college and kept in touch with her superiors, it was practically a shoe-in. But all in due time. There were still a few bases she had yet to cover in the world of charity work and philanthropy. “I’ve got my plate pretty full right now though.”

“Take on more than you can chew?”

“Not more than I can chew. Just more than I’m used to.” She pantomimed a mini explosion with her hands. “You know me.”

“Redfield thing?”

“Redfield thing.”

That explained _a lot._

“It’s one thing to be a decent multi-tasker. It’s another to overwhelm yourself with more than you can handle.” Lectures from Leon were often more insightful than what even the most esteemed motivational speakers were capable of. _Especially_ when he was drunk.

Claire hummed. “I think it’s a bit of both for me,” she said. “But I kinda like a little chaos in my life.”

Leon quirked a brow, amused. “I’m well aware.”

Their discussion came to a halt when Lucille reappeared, this time with two plates of two separate orders in hand. With a cheery well wishing, she pivoted on her heel and disappeared into the throngs of patrons, leaving the two alone once again.

Leon marveled at the heap of pancakes on Claire’s plate, watching in a conflicted mixture of amazement and horror as she drenched the fluffy batch in half a bottle’s worth of syrup. That was a lot of food for one person. That was a lot of food for _two_ people.

“You’re uh…” Leon struggled to string a cohesive sentence together without coming off as insulting. “You’re pretty stacked there, Claire.”

“Thank you. Oh shit, you meant the pancakes.”

Leon facepalmed. “Yeah… I meant…” Awkward. Change the subject. And _don’t_ look at her chest. “Uh, can you hand me the ketchup, please?”

Claire flashed a mischievous grin, leaving the fact that _he’d seen it all_ unsaid. She could tease him about taking his innocence later.

“Sure thing.” She planted the bottle of ketchup near his plate and went back to devouring her pancakes.

As she shoved another morsel into her mouth, Leon recalled her proposition back at the station and made a point of resuming where they’d left off.

“So, you wanted to ask me something?” he pried, dumping a little more ketchup on his hash browns than he’d intended.

“Hmmm?” Claire shielded her mouth in mid-chew.

“At the station,” Leon clarified. “I’m assuming there’s a reason you wanted to meet up this morning.”

Claire swallowed the massive lump of food down her throat as it all came back to her. That’s right; she’d set up this brunch date to ask for a _favor_ , figuring the café’s cozy little atmosphere would aid in her quest. But she’d been so sidetracked with catching up and making semi-flirtatious comments that it steered her away from her objective entirely.

Spending time with Leon Kennedy often resulted in such. Laughs, stupid but heartfelt conversation, reprieve from all the chaos and work-related obligations that tethered her to the bullshit people referred to as ‘life.’

She’d fallen for it again. His charm; a gift he was completely unaware of. The fool.

“Maybe I just missed you,” she answered. _Ease into it_. “And okay, yeah, there _was_ something I wanted to talk to you about…”

“I’m all ears.”

Oh, shit. Now she was a little nervous, having inadvertently put herself on the spot. She hadn’t exactly rehearsed her plan and, with Leon as oblivious as he often was, she was rather unsure how to go about explaining her dilemma in a tactful manner.

Claire bit her lip, strategizing her next move. “So, you know my brother’s getting married…”

Leon nodded. “Yeah. I missed the announcement but I got the invitation to the engagement party.” The look on his face gave no indication he had any clue where this was going. Typical.

Claire could work with that. “Are you gonna go?”

“Yes, ma’am. Wait, don’t tell me. You want to carpool together?”

“Uh, sure.” Leon wasn’t the best driver, but he hadn’t gotten them killed. Yet.

“That’s what you wanted to ask me?” Leon chuckled. “To be your chauffeur?”

“Not exactly… Well, I mean, now that we’re already on the subject-”

“More coffee?” Lucille the waitress emerged in an unprecedented act of interference- albeit as part of her job. After dutifully refilling their cups, she smiled and strode off, whistling along to some tune on the radio.

 Claire held back a sigh, collecting herself.

“You were saying?” Leon gave her an expectant look as he reached for his toast.

Claire handed him a couple packets of jam, knowing full-well he’d ask. Strawberry. His favorite.

“Thanks,” he said. “Didn’t know you Redfields were mind-readers, too.”

It was quiet for a moment as he spread the jam on his toast. Perfect. An opening. Claire internally started the countdown from five.

She blurted it out after ‘three’.

“Leon, I was wondering if you’d be my date to the wedding.” There. She’s said it.

Leon paused and met her gaze, only the purest form of curiosity glimmering in his eyes. Then, without missing a beat, he half-smiled and replied with a simple: “Okay.”

 _That’s it?_ Claire was befuddled.

“You’re not even going to make me work for it, huh?” she quipped in relief, her nerves mere remnants of the past. “You’re easy.”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Leon played along. “I _have_ missed the famous Redfield apple turnovers…”

“The one’s I used to bake with Sherry?” Claire recalled. Guess it’s true when they say the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. “Deal.”

“Okay,” he said again, and went back to his toast. He seemed a little more upbeat.

“So… this isn’t like… weird for you… or anything?” Claire asked, intent on clearing it all up.

Leon rose a brow questioningly. “Why would it be weird?” He had a vague idea _why_ , but he wanted to hear from Claire’s perspective before confirming his suspicions.

Good thing Claire was the upfront type. “We used to date, Leon. We have a… history.”

And History may repeat itself if Leon, the stupid boy he is, keeps running his hand through his tousled hair, flexing his muscled arms when he pulls them into a stretch above his head, and yawning in blissful laxity like an absolute idiot.

Alas, the idiot was pragmatic when he needed to be. “We’re friends,” he reasoned. “The past is the past.”

Claire felt an ache in her chest. “I guess.” She sighed in resignation. “I just… think we should be mindful of boundaries.” AKA The boundaries of the friendzone (which may or may not permit the occasional makeout session. TBD).

Leon frowned. “You trust me, right?” By all accounts, he had his feelings in check. If Claire only wanted to be friends, he respected that. “You know me better than that.”

Claire averted her gaze. _It’s not_ you _I’m worried about_ , she thought.

She vigorously shook her head when she meant to nod, her inner musings spiraling out of control.  “I trust you.” _Myself on the other hand…_ “But I’d understand if you had your reservations.”

Leon shrugged. “You’ve always been there for me,” he said. “So I’ll be there for you.”

The sincerity in his voice made her red as a tomato.

“But the wedding’s not for months,” Leon warned, light-hearted. “That’s gonna be a lot of baking…”

Claire rolled her eyes and flashed a daring grin. “I’m up for the challenge.” She always was.

 

She really missed this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler alert: history's probably gonna repeat itself


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the comments and kudos, peeps! :))
> 
> here, have some fluff!

“So why are we doing this again?”

 

The delightful scent of cinnamon and sugar infused the small kitchen of Claire’s apartment as she opened the oven and carefully retrieved the pan of apple turnovers with a pair of quilted mitts, setting the baked goodies on the counter to cool off.

“These should be done,” she assessed, silently admiring her handiwork before rendering a response to Sherry’s inquiry. “We’re doing this because I owe someone a favor _and_ you love baking with me.”

“Well yeah, but…” Sherry tilted her head in confusion, dissatisfied with Claire’s vague reply. Of course she enjoyed spending time with Claire, and she’d like to think her baking skills were impressive for a young adolescent, but there had to be further explanation as to why they’d baked _five_ pans of turnovers. _One_ was taxing enough. “This seems like overkill. What kind of favor are you getting in return?”

Claire wasted no time in setting up the ingredients for a sixth pan. “Adult stuff,” she summarized.

“Ewww.”

“Not in a nasty way!” Claire rectified. “I meant that you’re too young to understand the complexities of adult relations.”

“I’m a junior in high school…”

“Exactly. Too young.” Sherry needed to stay innocent.

“It’s about a guy, isn’t it?”

“No!” Claire couldn’t keep a straight face. “Maybe…”

“It’s Leon! I _knew_ it!”

“Woah there, kiddo. Now you’re jumping to conclusions!”

“It makes perfect sense! We’re baking dozens of these apple turnovers because they’re his favorite! Are you two getting back together?”

“We… were never official to begin with…”

Sherry sighed at that. “Suuuuuure,” she drawled, washing her hands in preparation for yet another batch. “So what’s the favor then?”

Claire grimaced. “I asked him to be my date for Chris’s wedding,” she replied, kneading the thick dough in circular formations.

Sherry began chopping more apples for the filling portion of the recipe, not the least bit surprised by the revelation. “He would’ve said yes either way.”

“I know,” Claire mumbled. “But he’s always putting up with my shit. This is the least I could do.”

“Um, isn’t the wedding not for another… eight months?”

“Yup.”

“Doesn’t this seem a bit premature? Why not wait closer to the actual date of the ceremony?”

Claire shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want to have to worry about scrambling for a plus one at the last minute. Worst case scenario, I would’ve gone stag but since Leon was invited anyway it’s just convenient.”

“Oh it’s convenient all right.”

Claire smirked. “What do you mean by that, missy?”

Sherry held back a laugh. “Nothing,” she said. “Maybe all the planets and stars have aligned just right.”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” Claire opposed. She massaged the dough in slow repetitive motions, shaping each portioned size into neat little triangles. As she carried on with the task, Sherry took advantage of the brief gap in conversation to make a small request.

“Seeing as how we’ll have plenty of leftovers,” she began, her bubbly voice conflicting all efforts to come off as nonchalant. “Would it be all right if I took some home?”

Claire nodded, an all-knowing grin playing on her lips. “You don’t even have to ask,” she said. “Take some for your parents… and for Jake.”

Sherry’s cheeks flushed a bright pink, unable to come up with a rebuttal to Claire’s insinuation. “I… Right… Thanks.”

* * *

 

Claire pulled her car up into the RPD visitor’s parking lot and squeezed into a tight space sandwiched between a red mustang and a black ford F150.

She reached for the basket of fresh baked goods from the passenger seat and headed inside the station, committing herself to the spur-of-the-moment plan of surprising Leon on his lunch break.

As she sauntered inside, she was immediately welcomed by the receptionist at the front desk.

“Hey, Claire,” came the all-too familiar greeting. She’d come often enough to visit her brother that she was on a first name basis with practically half of the department. If you knew Chris, you knew Claire. Package deal. “Here to see Officer Redfield?”

Claire smiled and shook her head. “Actually, I’m here to see Officer Kennedy.”

The receptionist nodded and quickly processed Claire as per the usual protocol.

“There was a meeting in the debriefing room earlier today,” the receptionist informed her, handing over a visitor’s badge. “But in the meantime, you’re welcome to wait at his desk.”

“Thanks.” Claire adjusted her grip on the basket and headed for Leon’s desk in the west office on the first floor.

When she entered, there were a few officers conversing among one another in a corner on the opposite side of the room, laughing at what she perceived to be an inside joke. (“Officer Scott switched the locks again! Took Branagh forever to find the spare keys for the keypad in the Safety Deposit Room!”)

Leon was nowhere in sight. By process of elimination, Claire narrowed his whereabouts down to two possibilities: One, he was still at the meeting or two, he’d headed out for lunch with coworkers.

The former seemed far more plausible so she set the basket on top of his desk and pulled up a seat, eyes sweeping over the contents of his designated accommodation. His name was engraved onto a silver metal plate at the corner; his first initial followed by _Kennedy_. His laptop was closed shut, stowed away under the faint glow of a nearby reading lamp. There were also a few photographs pinned against the backboard of his desk; some recent, some from when he was practically a tadpole.

Claire’s expression waned from amusement to endearment when her sights grazed over a relic from their early ‘dating’ days. The picture of her and Leon was framed, nestled safely away from the chaotic mess of paperwork clustered on the opposing end of the desk. It was from Rebecca’s birthday party a few months back, both were fashioning metallic cone party hats, and their arms were coiled around one another.

It perfectly captured their relationship.

Claire melted into the wave of nostalgia, lost in inner musings surrounding that night. She remembered he’d accidentally smeared frosting on his upper lip after taking a bite out of a homemade cupcake.

_“You got something…” Claire pointed at the smudge of frosting, resisting the horde of laughs rising in her throat. “There’s frosting on your…” The laughs ultimately won._

_“Oh…” Leon caught on but before he could reach for a napkin to clean up, Claire cupped his jaw with the tender caress of her hand and urged him back to face her._

_“I can help with that,” she said softly, pulling him in for a kiss. An innocent, chocolate frosting smeared kiss…_

“Claire?”

The sudden voice jolted her from her distant reverie like an electric shock. Slightly on edge, she swiveled in the chair and twisted her body to see who had dared come to disturb her silent reminiscence in the good ol’ days.

She sighed in relief at the discovery.

“Oh, Good afternoon, Lieutenant Branagh.” She was grateful it was him and not, you know, her brother. Close call. “I dropped by to see Leon- I mean, Officer Kennedy.” She gestured toward the basket at his desk. “I come bearing gifts.”

Marvin Branagh gave her a well-meaning grin. “After that long meeting we had, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” He hung up his jacket on a nearby coat rack and rubbed his chin, pondering. “Surprised he isn’t here now. Meeting ended half an hour ago, and he usually has his lunch at his desk.”

Claire could only think of one other place the rookie cop might have wandered off to.

“I think I know where to find him then…” she said, mischief sprinkling her words.

* * *

 

“Now sit! Sit! Good boy! Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?!”  

“Come here, girl. Heel. Now stay.”

“Follow me. Good girl. Good.”

The K-9 unit was heavily bound in the usual routine. Claire navigated through the kennel and into the handler’s training facility where a new batch of potential recruits were drilled by their respective instructors. She peered into the window before venturing inside, eyes glossed in adoration for the furry companions and their dutiful resolve. They were still pups, Claire noticed, who had their whole lives and a possible career in law enforcement ahead of them. Most were too small for the standard issue RPD K-9 harness, an indication there was growth in both the physical and cognitive sense that had yet to be made before the pups could become honorary officers on the force.

It wasn’t long before Claire had spotted Leon through the glass, immersed in training a very young and inquisitive Belgian Malinois. (His ‘training’ had a heavy emphasis on affectionate belly rubs and scratches behind the ear, it seemed.)

She approached him quietly, careful so as not to intrude on his bonding time with the pup.

“Well hey there, cutie,” she said, introducing herself to the little dog with a few gentle pets.

Leon froze like a deer in a headlight, initially startled by the sudden emergence of his visitor before the confusion as to _who_ exactly she was talking to had sunk in. Oh. The dog. She was talking to the dog. The dog was the cutie.

“Hello to you, too,” Leon quipped sarcastically, heart-rate spiking in elevation. “I would’ve introduced you two myself…” He trailed off, watching as Claire swarmed the puppy with affection.  “But I see you’re already acquainted.”

“What’s his name?” Claire asked, rising to full height.

“Scout,” Leon replied. “He’s been in training for two weeks now and he picks up on everything really well. He’s got a real bright future ahead of him.”

Claire playfully nudged Leon’s arm. He sounded like the proud father of a kid who’d just scored the winning goal in a soccer match.

“If things with STARS don’t work out maybe you should apply for the K-9 unit,” she suggested. “This seems more up your alley.”

“I still need a couple more years of patrol experience before I’m eligible to transfer,” Leon replied. “But I’m not ruling it out. Just keeping my options open.” He gave Scout one last benevolent pat on his head before meeting Claire’s gaze, taking in the sight of her sans any distractions in the form of barks and commands. He cleared his throat. “Were you here to visit your brother?”

Claire shook her head. “I came to see you actually.”

Leon blushed ever so slightly at that. It wasn’t uncommon for Claire to stop by the station. But normally, it was to see Chris- and Leon was the pit stop afterward.

This was a nice change of pace.

“I waited at your desk for a bit until Marvin told me you hadn’t returned to the office from the meeting,” Claire continued. “I figured _this_ was where you’d be if you still had some time left over on your break.”

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, shielding the coy grin on his lips with a tilt of his head.

“Either you have some commendable deductive skills or I’m just too predictable,” he mused.

“Both,” Claire said after brief contemplation, hand fishing into her pocket. She checked her phone and gawked at how much time had passed since her arrival. The realization made her a bit hasty. “I wish I could stay a little longer but I promised my boss I’d show up early so she won’t be stuck in traffic on her way home.”

“Okay.” Leon nodded in understanding. “I’ll walk you to your car.” This time, he was insistent- and (luckily) free of any slave labor as commanded by Chief Irons.

They took the alternate route to the visitor’s parking lot; through the underground lot and up into the street as opposed to taking the stairs to the first floor and rounding the reception hall to the main entrance.

Claire fidgeted with her keys as the two came to a stop on the driver’s side of the vehicle.

“I left something for you at your desk,” she told him, keeping the details to a minimum.

Leon always liked it when she left some things to mystery. To the imagination. Although, based on their previous conversation from their recent brunch escapade, he had a good enough guess as to what was waiting for him.

“Spoiling me now?” His smirk was ridiculous. God, the idiot. “I can get used to this.”

“Well don’t,” Claire teased. “This is all part of our little agreement. I’m only holding up my end of the bargain.”

Leon smiled and raised his hands up in defense. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped back and watched as she unlocked the door to her car and hopped inside, buckling her seatbelt before rolling the window down.

“Engagement party’s this weekend,” Claire reminded him.

Leon nodded and leaned into her window the way a nosy cop would after they’d pulled someone over with the sole intention of lecturing away on matters completely irrelevant to the infraction itself.

“Still wanna carpool?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m down.”

“What time should I pick you up?”

Claire mulled it over. “Around six.”

“Six,” Leon repeated. “I’ll be there.”

“It’s a date.” The words left her mouth before she could properly filter them. In her flustered state, she hastily twisted the key in the ignition and started the car, internally dying of humiliation as the engine sputtered to life. _Fuck_. “I mean… not literally?”

Leon spared her any further embarrassment like the decent human being he was.

“See you later,” were his soft-spoken parting words, perfectly capped with the angelic timber of his voice.  

 

As Claire drove away, her thoughts were consumed with the memory of the chocolate frosting smudged on his lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant help myself, guys. i've written about puppies/dogs in like half of my fics. it never fails. i just cant stop myself. there's no use. its hopeless. a futile endeavor. an inevitability. they just kinda force themselves into the plot- i am powerless to the cuteness! i'm not strong enough to withstand their ridiculous little faces and pathetic whines for attention.  
> pls help  
> or dont actually, i love dogs. they're all good!!!
> 
> *ahem* Coming up: engagement partyyyyy!!! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF i wanted to update before heading on vacay so here we are!!  
> Enjoy this longer-ish chapter and thank you all so much for waiting!  
> I'm aiming for this fic to be about eight or nine chapters...? So i guess we're at the halfway mark :O
> 
>  
> 
> *rubs hands* The engagement party is on! WOO!

Claire couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn a dress.

While she typically felt more comfortable in jeans and t-shirts, she had no qualms making a small exception in the wardrobe department for her brother’s engagement party. Needless to say, it was both convenient and fitting of her character that there were several dresses dangling on the rack in her closet completely neglected, some still with tags.

She was in the middle of deliberating between three possible contenders when Leon called.

He could be the deciding factor.

“Blue, black, or red,” she said without preamble. “Pick one.”

The line was quiet on the other end for a brief moment. “Yeah, I’m gonna need context.” Leon reserved judgment, but remained skeptical.

“For the party,” Claire explained. “I’m trying to figure out which dress to wear so I’m narrowing it down by color.”

Another pause. “I don’t know the first thing about women’s fashion, so I’m gonna pick at random,” Leon said, voice trailing off cluelessly. “Let’s go with blue.”

Claire had secretly hoped Leon would pick blue. The black dress looked like something she’d wear to a funeral, and the red dress was a bit low-cut. It’s not that she had an issue with a little extra cleavage showing, but for her brother’s sake she figured she ought to tone it down.

“Blue it is,” she declared, tucking the rejected dresses back in her closet.

“Was that the right answer?”

“There wasn’t really a right or wrong answer per se… but you chose well. I think.”

“You don’t need any help from me. You always look good.”

A smile spread across Claire’s lips. “I wasn’t phishing for compliments, ya know.”

“I know,” Leon replied casually.

Claire waited for him to say more, but he left it at that.

“So…” she began, absentmindedly twisting the ends of her auburn hair with her free hand. “What are _you_ wearing?”

That came out wrong. So wrong.

“For tonight!” Claire quickly rectified. Shit, that sounded worse. “For the party tonight- is what I meant!”

Leon chuckled, and Claire couldn’t exactly hate him for it. His laugh was so pure.

“I’m wearing a shirt and some pants,” he answered. “I kinda look like I’m about to go to Mass to be perfectly honest.”

It was mind-boggling how fast their jokes could go from sex to church.

“I should go with you one of these days,” Claire quipped. “Got a lot I need to confess.”

“I’m… shocked.”

“You shouldn’t be. You have a lot to do with it.”

“Shifting the blame, huh? That’s unbecoming of you.”

Oh hell, it would be _more_ awkward if they pretended like they never fooled around. (As if either of them could ever forget.) Oddly enough, humor helped them cope with the repercussions.

“Takes two to tango.” Claire put the phone on speaker and tossed it on her bed before frivolously throwing on her dress. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Five thirty. “Are you on your way?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in about ten minutes.” He hadn’t even left his own apartment yet.

“Sweet.” After smoothing over a few wrinkles in the form-fitting dress, Claire retrieved her phone and nuzzled it against her ear. “That’ll give me enough time to finish my makeup.”

“No rush,” Leon assured, knowing full-well neither of them would be ready for a while. “Take your time.”

 

He showed up at her apartment half an hour later.

Claire still wasn’t ready.

* * *

 

The address on the invitation led Claire and Leon to a classy hotel downtown.

Upon arrival, concierge directed them to the rooftop, where the lovely patio was decked out with string lights and ornate embellishments for the occasion.

The views were breathtaking. Dusk had settled in, summoning the stars and the faint glow of the crescent moon. Champagne and horderves were served on shiny platters, making rounds as guests continued filing in one by one. Dainty keystrokes of a piano filtered in between the murmurs and laughs sprinkled throughout conversations Claire desperately hoped she could avoid.

She wasn’t anti-social by any means- but she _was_ hungry. Socializing could wait until after she’d indulged in a few prosciutto cocktail bites. They smelled heavenly.

“Shouldn’t we say hi to your brother?” Leon queried as Claire hauled them both toward the bar. “That way he’ll know you made it.”

Claire shrugged dismissively. “He’ll find me first.” She scanned the patio and instantly spotted Chris across the way, engrossed in conversation with Jill’s parents. Jill stood by his side, possibly monitoring the discussion for fear of her parents airing out her dirty laundry or sharing embarrassing anecdotes from her childhood. On the plus side, she looked gorgeous. Miss Valentine rarely had off-days in that regard. “Besides, he seems preoccupied.”

Leon’s line of sight followed the quick gesture of her hand, and he ultimately agreed after rendering his own assessment. Chris and Jill had bigger fish to fry.

“Let’s get a table,” Leon suggested after Claire handed him a glass of red wine. “There’s one with a great view of the city by the ledge.”

Claire took a greedy sip from her wine glass, clutching the plate of horderves in her other hand.

“Can we hide for a bit?” she asked sheepishly. “I don’t want to talk to anyone until after I’ve had a little buzz kick in.”

“Hide?” Leon emphasized the word with liberal amounts of amusement. “Really, Claire?”

“I want to snack in peace.”

“I think it’s a little too late to go incognito.” Most guests had already seen them arrive, and some were raising eyebrows (and suspicions) over the fact that the two had arrived _together_.

“Ugh. Fine. Let’s head to the tables then.” She hoped no one would stop them to chat along the way.

They reached the table unscathed and unbothered. Claire blew out a sigh in relief.

“I don’t remember Jill having this many relatives,” she said, rather impressed. “There’s a shortage of RPD folks tonight.”

“It’s still early,” Leon noted. “I did see Branagh and his wife a few minutes ago.” He took a bite out of the baguette from their hoard of snacks and checked the time on his watch. When he looked up again, he saw Barry Burton arrive with his daughter Moira. Behind them were several more of his colleagues from the station. “Aaaaand now half of STARS is here.”

Claire emptied the contents of her wine glass deep into the pit of her stomach, having relaxed and satisfied her hunger. “You should go mingle,” she encouraged, nodding toward the clustered group of off-duty officers. Even in their civilian clothes, most were instantly recognizable.

Leon seemed reluctant to leave. “You sure?” he asked. When Claire nodded, he pressed with: “Come with.”

“Nah, I need another glass of wine stat. And poor Moira looks bored as hell so I think I’ll keep her company until Piers gets here.”

If that was supposed to be the punchline of some joke, Leon missed it. “What’s gonna happen when Piers gets here?” He almost regretted asking.

Claire smirked. “I’m going to play a little matchmaking.”

“Barry might not approve.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she reasoned flippantly, her eyes flitting to his collar. His tie was crooked. Gently, she steadied her hands around the knot of his tie and adjusted it with ease. When it was positioned neatly, she patted his chest and nodded approvingly. “We’ll catch up later.” She gave him a wink before sauntering off.

Leon grazed over the tie with his fingers, dumbstruck. “Thanks…” He smiled, then headed off to mingle about with his cohorts.

Claire made a beeline for the bar and ordered her next drink. The Brut Rose was tempting (obviously Chris's preferred champagne), but she opted to save that for the third or fourth selection. Red wine it is.

She took a hefty gulp and rallied a one-woman search party for Moira, who had unceremoniously disappeared from her stagnant position by the fountain. _That girl._

While in the throes of reconnaissance, she stumbled, quite literally, into Carlos Oliveira. Goodbye, drink.

“Woah, you all right, Claire?” he asked, saving her from a disastrous fall. God, his accent was a thing of beauty.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks… for that.” She flattened the creases in her dress, then set aside her now-empty glass on a nearby table. “Well, hell, long time no see. How have you been? I thought you were still in Colombia.”

Carlos whipped out a napkin and wiped the edges of the table where Claire’s drink had spilled before answering. He’d always been considerate in spite of his overzealous habit of flirting.

“I just got back actually,” he said. “Couldn’t miss this. Jill would never let me hear the end of it.”

“Ha! ‘Course.” Claire doubted he needed much convincing to begin with. “So what was it this time? Drug trafficking? Insurgents? Bioterrorists?”

“That information’s classified,” Carlos replied. “I _could_ tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

Another round of drinks made their way toward them on a platter, to which Carlos was quick to grab one for Claire as a replacement. It was the Brut Rose this time.

“And they say chivalry’s dead,” Claire mumbled. Carlos couldn’t tell if that was in response to her replacement glass of wine or for his joke about having to kill her.

Or both.

“I’m kidding,” he remedied with a laugh. “I was visiting family. I only get to see them once a year, if that.”

“That sucks,” Claire sympathized. “The distance must be rough.” _Among other things…_

Something flashed in his gaze. It was somber but it was also reflective. “It’s better this way,” he gathered. “I don’t have to worry about them. I know they’re safe.”

Claire understood without him having to elaborate. His line of work demanded certain sacrifices. It was the same with her brother. “I get it.”

A woman approached Carlos from behind before they could indulge in some stellar gossip.  She was mildly inebriated, massaging her little paws all over Carlos as if to claim him. Her flirtatious gestures were enough to give Claire the hint. Still the charmer and ladies’ man, indeed.

“Excuse us…” the woman interjected. Translation: _“Shoo, girl.”_

“It was nice seeing you, Claire,” Carlos atoned as he was swept away.

“Night, Carlos,” Claire said, then she mouthed an inaudible, “Good luck.” (Probably didn’t need it, seeing as how he’d scored a one-night stand within the first hour of showing up to this party.)

As she made her way across the terrace to continue her search for the elusive Moira, she passed a myriad of familiar faces, to which polite nods and smiles were exchanged. The few people that she did ask had not seen Moira either, further heightening her frustration.

She was on her third drink when Chris found her.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, eyeballing her beverage suspiciously.

Claire raised her glass. “Absolutely,” she chirped. “How about you? Your future in-laws giving you a hard time?”

“Surprisingly no.”

“What’s so surprising about that? You’re like the poster boy for the perfect son-in-law.”

“Is that you or the wine talking?”

“The wine doesn’t know you like I do,” Claire drawled, swirling the drink around in the slender flute. “Don’t be so modest. You’re a catch.” She paused to let out a small hiccup. “I might be a little biased 'cause we're family and all but I think your rep speaks for itself." 

Chris smiled and slung his arm over her shoulder. “Save the sappy stuff for the wedding toast.” He reached for her half-empty glass and disposed of it in civil fashion. “You didn’t drive here yourself, did you?” Now there was that typical protective-older-brother concern in his voice.

“Nope,” Claire replied. “I have a ride. No need to worry.” She left the identity of her designated driver unsaid.

Before Chris could fully be appeased, they were paid a visit by another guest.

“Heard you were looking for me.” It was Moira, manifesting from whatever dimension she’d transcended by virtue of some magic portal. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your bonding moment.” An almost abstract concept in the world of Moira.

Claire’s reaction was delayed. Side effect of the alcohol, she presumed. “Not at all,” she insisted. She turned to Chris, and planted a small kiss on his cheek. “I should probably let you get back to your party,” she told him. “But thanks for checkin’ on me.”

Chris nodded. Before he could warn her to ‘stay out of trouble’ or whatever impish line he’d usually deliver as a farewell, he was roped into a peculiar debate with a few of his STARS cohorts about politics. Yikes.

With that, Claire and Moira were free to mosey about the terrace, taking full advantage of the open bar and endless array of snacks. Claire expected Moira to bitch about their latest assignment at work, but apparently her presence and the calming ambiance of the party had quelled her mood.

Moira had good days and bad days. Today was good.

“Has it sunk in yet?” was the first thing she’d asked when they had a moment of privacy. She clarified before the question could be misconstrued. “Your brother getting married and all.”

Claire was a little too sober for this conversation. “It sunk in the day he told me they were officially assigned as partners,” she said, reflective. “I knew he was gonna marry her. He’s been in love with her for what? Five years.” Sure, she was surprised by the engagement announcement.

Surprised that it took him _five years_ to propose.

“I can’t imagine being with someone that long,” Moira said with a groan. “I can’t imagine being with someone for _half_ that.”

“You haven’t met the right person yet.” Claire figured that was what she was _supposed_ to say.

As if to prove her point, Rebecca strolled right into their field of vision, her boyfriend by her side.

“Take Rebecca for instance.” Claire motioned towards the couple ahead.

This was all news to Moira. “Who is _that_?!” Her eyes widened in shock.

“Her boyfriend. Billy something.”

“Um. Hot.”

“Right? He’s got the bad-boy vibe about him.”

“Didn’t know that was Rebecca’s type. How did they meet? Did she accidentally stumble into some biker bar or something? Did she arrest him?!”

The fuck. “He’s her personal trainer at the gym. Ex-military. Moved here a year ago. That’s all I’ve heard. The rest are just rumors.”

“Rumors about what? Like he’s killed people?”

Jesus. “More like underground fight club rumors. But he was in the Marines, so maybe he’s killed people?”

“I said that out loud. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Half the people here are drunk so…” And hopefully nobody was eavesdropping.

Moira huffed in a sour combination of amusement and relief.

“Anyway,” Claire resumed. “I’m sure underneath all that tough-guy exterior, he’s nice.”

“Clearly he’s got a soft spot for petite science geeks like Rebecca,” Moira concluded. “Weird. I’d always figured that was _your_ type.”

“ _My_ type?” Claire tilted her head in confusion. “You mean hot nerds?”

Moira shook her head. “Nah, I was referring to the ‘bad boys’ like Billy. You know. The rebels. Dudes with mommy issues.”

“Are you… projecting? Is that what the kids call it?”

That earned an amused snort from Moira. “No,” she mumbled, keeping any further observations to herself.

Her collective observations thus far had led her to a simple conclusion.

Claire had waded deep enough into the dating pool to have seen it all. She’d experimented, obliged her curiosity, played the field. She’d brought home the rebels (Moira glanced at Billy, then shook her head), the lady-killers (Carlos fit the bill, but again, Moira shook her head), and the straight-laced guys (Chris- yeah no, Claire would never date anyone who reminded her of her brother, so again, Moira shook her head).

But none of them ever stuck. In that moment, it was fairly obvious what Claire Redfield’s type was.

Moira didn’t even have to point it out herself; Claire sealed the deal on her own.

“So I came with Leon,” she said. “He’s my designated driver for tonight… and my date for the wedding.”

“Are you two a thing again?” Moira got straight to the good stuff.

Claire’s hesitance was damning enough, but the answer was a genuine: “Nope.”

“And that’s all right with the both of you?”

 _Debatable…_ “Yup.”

“Soooo with that in mind, you’d be okay with him dating other girls? Right?”

Claire felt her face heat up. “Yeahhhh…?” She shook her head fiercely. “I mean, yes. I’d be cool with that.”

Moira took a sip from her glass in an effort to prevent herself from making any snarky comments.

 _Yup. Claire Redfield still has it bad for the rookie cop_.

* * *

 

Claire was cut off from drinking when the music started up.

By then, she was somewhere in between buzzed and moderately drunk; at the point where her head no longer felt like it was spinning, but she really really really needed to dance.

 _Good Vibrations_ streamed through the speakers, and the rhythm of the music had Claire swinging her hips in an instant.

“Oh shit, it’s Marky Mark,” she piped up, turning to Moira with inflated enthusiasm. “Let’s go join the other four drunk people on the dancefloor and let loose.”

Moira had no objections whatsoever. Dancing carefree sounded like fun to her and her tainted sobriety. “I’m down. Lead the way.”

Six people turned into ten then fifteen, and then twenty people swaying with the music, and soon Claire and Moira found themselves directly in the center of the action, a little off-beat but cheery nonetheless.

It was either the fifth or sixth song when Claire caught a glimpse of Piers Nivans through her peripherals and seized the opportunity with urgency, booty-bumping Moira his direction until they were face to face.

In an uncharacteristically clumsy move, Moira nearly tripped over herself, but (as Claire had so craftily planned) Piers caught her in time before anything catastrophic could happen.

“I got you,” he assured, helping a stunned and intensely smitten Moira regain her balance. “You good?”

Moira gulped and nodded. “Uh-huh…”

Piers half-smiled, and figured while they were here… “Wanna dance?”

Moira internally combusted, but managed a simple squeak. “Sure.” This was humiliating but so, so worth it.

Barry was going to be so pissed.

* * *

 

The music cycled from pop to rock and other upbeat tunes that set the scene for liveliness and merriment- until the DJ shifted the mood to that of intimate slow-dancing with _More & More_ by Finding Hope.

Claire blew out a sigh in indignation, bemused by the sudden change of music. Surrounded by a multitude of couples ( _holy shit_ the height difference between Billy and Rebecca was crazy!), she cast a furtive glance to where she last saw Leon and slowly weaved her way out of the crowded dancefloor.

It wasn’t until she’d cleared the crowd that she discovered he was not alone.

Ada Wong was casually striking a conversation with him, looking absolutely divine in a gorgeous red dress, her makeup completely immaculate. She radiated a perpetual air of elegance and sophistication, but her eyes always held something rather mysterious and strikingly demure. Such was the allure of Miss Wong.

In possibly the worst moment for such a thing to occur, Claire replayed Moira’s words from earlier, her knees faltering.

_“Soooo… you’d be okay with him dating other girls?”_

Claire told herself that yes, she’d be fine with it- so she committed herself to the principle of non-interference and turned to walk away. ( _More alcohol. Now_.) But before she could scurry off into the safety of more booze and dull her senses, Leon had already spotted her and beckoned her to join them.

“Claire!” he called. When she reluctantly looked back in acknowledgment, he gave her a wave.

Her heart was pounding so violently against her chest, she thought for sure it would rupture her sternum like one of those fucking chestbursters in _Alien_.

She floated over to their table, dragging her feet in an awkward tread. “Hi.”

Ada smiled politely. “Hello, Claire,” she said. “Good to see you, as always.”

“Likewise,” Claire mustered through thinly veiled confusion. She’d always been a decent conversationalist, but there was something about Ada that had her jumbling her words. Not in a negative way, of course, just that she was so mesmerizing and… _damn_ , who on earth has skin _that_ smooth and impeccable?!

“I was telling Ada about Wesker's offer,” Leon said, pulling her from her trance. “She thinks I should go for it.”

Ada Wong was something of a celebrity at the RPD station. She was a certified instructor specializing in weapons training, hand-to-hand combat, and other tactical methods. Her teachings were immensely rigorous, and she’d long since been considered one of the best trainers the force had to offer. Outside of the RPD, she’d often taught women’s self-defense classes at a small studio downtown.

She’d trained with the STARS agents on a semi-regular basis; yet another incentive for Leon to join.

Claire’s mind was racing a mile a minute, only paying attention to fragments of the conversation as her gaze briefly flitted back to the dancefloor. Another slow song was playing, and she yearned to reach for Leon’s hand and drag him along.

But she wouldn’t dare. Not when Leon looked comfortable right where he was. Instead, she made a single step back and awkwardly excused herself.

“Um, I’m gonna go…” She gestured sloppily to the group of couples swaying softly with the music. “Over there. Yeah.” _Fuck!_ “Good seeing you, Ada.”

Confusion washed over Leon. “…Want me to join you?”

Claire froze. “Well, I don’t wanna… I mean you two are… I don’t mean to… I wouldn’t want to…”

Goddammit.

“It’s fine,” Ada interjected, an unreadable expression poised on her face. “Go easy on him. He’s a terrible dancer.”

“Thanks.” Leon frowned.

Claire was already aware of the fact. “Noted,” she said before hauling him away.

* * *

 

Leon wasn’t _that_ bad of a dancer.

Then again, you’d really have to go out of your way to screw up basic slow dancing. You simply loop your arms around your partner and slowly step side to side, back and forth, rock to a leisurely rhythm.

They could manage that much.

After Claire confirmed she and Leon were safely hidden from Chris’s view (he and Jill look so cute when they dance together), she waited until the next song started up to oblige her curiosity. Or nosiness. Take your pick.

“So,” she drawled, clearing her throat with a tiny, inconspicuous cough. “You and Ada…? You two have…?”

Leon shifted his footsteps clumsily. “What?” The grin on his face was one of bewilderment.

“She knows how bad of a dancer you are,” Claire insinuated, knowing full-well the privilege was reserved for very few people.

Understanding dawned on Leon. “Oh, yeah…” He straightened his posture and steadied his grasp on Claire’s waist, their movements balanced. “She went out with us one night to some dive bar downtown. I guess she’s not really one to go out but she made an exception to celebrate Enrico’s promotion a couple months ago. Anyway, long story short I had a little more than I could handle and next thing you know I worked up the nerve to ask her to dance and she agreed.”

“Liquid courage, eh?” Claire smirked.

Leon shrugged. “Courage, yes. Dance skills, no.” He fixed his gaze on her, inquisitive. “Why do you ask?”

Claire shook her head, and leaned her head against his chest. “No reason.” Lies, lies, lies…

For the rest of the night, they danced in silence.

* * *

 

Claire was halfway sober by the time she and Leon left the hotel.

They didn’t talk much in his car, and she purposely turned the radio up when he made an attempt to converse with her. She knew he was going to ask if something was on her mind, and she didn’t want to have to lie and tell him no because there were in fact _several_ things on her mind; things that would complicate their friendship.

So she played it safe and kept her mouth shut.

At least, that was the plan until he pressed the issue at the doorstep to her apartment.

“Claire… we should talk.”

Fucking fuck.

“About what?” Playing dumb was never Claire’s forte. Not even Leon was falling for it.

“About…” He made an awkward gesture between them. “This. Us.”

Claire sighed at length, figuring this was bound to happen at some point. He’d probably been holding it all in since she’d first propositioned him back at the station.

“Come in," she relented. When Leon hesitated, she rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the hand, ushering him inside. She pointed out the loveseat in her living room and patted the spot next to her as she sat down. Once they were both settled, she gave him her undivided attention. “What’s up?”

To her surprise, Leon skipped the small-talk. “This isn’t weird for you, is it?”

“No,” Claire answered honestly. It wasn’t weird. No, that wasn’t the right word. “We’re friends. We’ve just been through a lot.”

Leon chuckled. It almost sounded bitter. “Yeah, I guess we have.”

Claire averted her gaze, and spoke before Leon could pry deeper into the subject. “I just want to say, if you choose to see other people, I’m cool with it.”

Leon tilted his head, questioningly. Realization sunk in at the memory of his chat with Ada.

But now, he was curious. “Are you seeing other people?” He knew better than to ask questions he’d rather not know the answer to, but lo and behold…

Claire smiled, playing it off. “No,” she replied. “Why do you think I asked you to be my date for the wedding?” It was meant to be a joke, but there _was_ truth in her words- and Leon couldn’t help but feel the inevitable sting of hearing it out loud.

“Ouch,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Shit.” Claire internally chided herself, covering her mouth. “Sorry… I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know.” Leon forced a smile, but he couldn’t mask the disenchantment in his eyes. Feeling as though he’d gotten the confirmation he was looking for, he rose from the couch and turned to head for the door.

“Wait, Leon!” Claire shot up from the couch as though propelled by an electric force. She took hold of his arm, and he looked back in surprise. “What I meant is that…” She froze, barely able to maintain eye contact.

He waited for her to speak again, something akin to hurt still reflecting in his eyes.

The air between them was suffocating.

“I’m glad that you’re my date,” Claire finally said. “I’m glad that you’re still around in spite of all the shit I do. You’ve always been there to support me and cheer me up. Even when things get a little rough, you remind me that good people still exist and… I couldn’t ask for a better friend…” Reaching for his hands, she stepped closer, as if caught in a gravitational pull. “Being with you makes me grateful.”

Leon withstood the fleeting moment of concern that they’d crossed some sort of boundary, but when Claire smiled once more, warm and meaningful, it was like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said in acceptance. “It’s okay, Claire.” He peered below at their connected hands, unsure why she hadn’t released him yet. “Uhhh…” When he looked her in the eye, his muddled thoughts were only further amplified.

She’d been staring like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve, lips parted to speak again. “It’s just that…” Claire fumbled with her words before finally letting go of her inhibitions. “You mean so much to me.” She took one small step closer, inadvertently sealing the already tight distance between them. _What am I doing? Am I really going to-_

Leon’s previous concerns about crossing boundaries returned with full force, but his brain was too fried by the time Claire pressed against him, and slowly drew him in for a kiss.

It was only a small peck; innocent, harmless, childlike. But then she reeled him in again, hand stroking his cheek, and kissed him with surety. Leon hadn’t expected this, not by a long shot, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away either. He’d missed this. He’d _really_ missed this.

He thought for sure Claire would come to her senses and recoil from their embrace. Instead, she only deepened the kiss and looped her arms above his shoulders. His fingers smoothed over her hair in return, hands trailing down to her waist to keep her steady and close. The heated embrace progressed when Claire gave an experimental roll of her hips against him, grinding into his pelvis impulsively. Leon made a quiet noise of assent at that, his breathing hitched. He bent his head and pressed soft open-mouthed kisses against her neck, his lips softly brushing over her pulse point as she writhed in frustration.   

Claire stopped before things could escalate from there, pulling away when she felt heat pool between her legs.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, out of breath. “Fuck... I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Leon interjected. “I shouldn’t have…” He let his breathing even out before rationalizing away. “This was spur-of-the-moment.”

Claire nodded in agreement. “Yeah. One-time thing.” Accidental makeouts are prone to happen between ex-lovers turned friends who still had hard-ons for each other. It’s possibly been proven by science. Who knows.

Leon shoved his hands in his pockets, compensating for the emptiness they felt. “I’m gonna head home.”

That was probably for the best, because if he kept looking at her with those goddamn bedroom eyes she might possibly lose her mind.

As much as it pained her, she reluctantly concurred. “Okay.” Her jaw clenched. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” were Leon’s parting words before turning to head out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

 

When Claire finally collapsed in her bad later that night, she dreamt of him.

 

He’s a bad dancer even in her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as mentioned previously; history was bound to repeat itself :p
> 
>  
> 
> also, piers x moira is a thing in this fic because i'm a sucker for rare pairs and i think they'd be cute together (and because piers deserved better) *shrugs*


End file.
